Lemonade Mouth
by Red Writing Express
Summary: It was this ragtag group of five that started a revolution. But how? It will surprise you that it all started it in...Detention? Request from xXAdventureTimedaBossXx . Requests are still open :) This is the same story as the movie but it changes due to the character's actions.
1. Chapter 1

_Crowds cheer._

_**Poets.**_

_Everyone hands in their tickets and walk into the concert excitedly. _

_**Geniuses. **_

_As the performing band gets ready, everyone in the stadium stomps to the sound of the original song, We Will Rock You. _

_**Revolutionaries. **_

_Everything begins to dim darkly as lasers scatter all around._

_**Lemonade mouth has been called all these things.**_

_The band gets ready. A girl fixes her hair while another adjusts the straps of her outfit. A boy cracks his knuckles while the other runs his fingers through his hair, sighing. Although there is a deafning sound of the crowds screaming, shouting and stomping, they focus on the steady beats of their heartbeats; they seem to beat together as if they were one. Bump, bump. Some pull on their jackets. Bump, bump. Another girl adds a few facial details to her make-up. Bump, bump. Their heartbeats sound like bass drums pounding all at once in perfect formation like in percussion class of band. Workers backstage help ready the band. One adjusts the drummer's jacket and another fixes his hair. A girl with a face of rock-hard determination straps on her guitar. Another girl stands next to her, a different one with raven black hair, grips the end of her fingerless gloves and straps it on tightly. "We made it, Keila. Finally," She whispers to the girl with brown hair._

_"Yeah. Now, you can stop listening to daddy, Marceline," The girl replies with a grin. _

_"Hey! Shut up!" The raven haired girl laughs, grasping the head of the other girl as her friend responds by wrapping her arms around her waist, slouching lowly. They giggle and make their way to their friends. _

_"Ready?" A blonde boy asks. _

_They gulp. The only girl with brown hair narrows her eyes, smirking, "Let's rock."_

_**But the real story, the story of how our band came to be...**_

_The band waits for their cue. The drummer slaps his sticks together, signaling the workers below at the doors where loads of people waited excitedly. The worker grins, nods and unlatches the door. The giant bunches of fans rush through the doors, racing to get the best seats in the house; heck, they would stand for hours just to get a sight a lemonade mouth at concert! _

_**..is a mystery to them all.**_

_The band make their way through the hallway backstage that led onto the stage; they are seen as silhouetted figures from the exit of the hallway. A girl with raven black hair reaches for her bass guitar held by a worker with a uniform ment for backstage. She grasps the strap and slips it on her shoulders. The blonde boy wipes his hands on a wet towel held by another worker; for he was the keyboard player._

_**I wonder if they'd believe it...**_

_The cheering gets louder; impossibly loud but they are still in the middle of the pathway. The band passes high fives all around as they finally make it on stage. It is incredible loud and the whole stadium is packed with people, screaming happily. The blonde boy stands behind his keyboard, shushes the crowd and begins to press his fingers upon his keys._

_**..if I told them it all started...**_

_Giant screens hang all around the stage, flashing pictures of the band members rocking out from past concerts. "Ooh, yeah," A blonde girl sings along with the soft pop music in the background. "Mm...breakthrough!"_

_**Right here.**_

The word _Detention_ is written neatly on a paper taped on a school door. A young man about the age of twenty-nine spoke up inside the room filled with a small group of students that were assigned detention, "The rules are simple!" His hair was white and messy yet very short; about the lenth of three inches upwards, considering he always swiped his hand across his hair when he was nervous, angry, confused, etc. He wore a greyish, green old velvet suit and had a few hairs splattered across his chin. He was young but his hair was snowy white due to stress. "No eating, no drinking, no sleeping, no talking, no tapping, no texting." He sighed. "You break a rule!" A short pause. "I add another day of detention."

Everyone remained silent; some still regretting what they did to get detention, one scared, and another just flat-out annoyed. "Are we clear?" He didn't wait a single second for their answer. "Great!" He swiped his hand across his hair again, releasing a long exhale of breath that smelled much like peppermint and ice from the boxes that held ice cream. The man's black shoes click along the clear floor.

Sitting in the front seat was a girl with blue tight jeans, red converse and brown short, stylish hair with very thin, rare colors of golden blonde strips. She wore a peculiar shirt that slipped on of her shoulders, revealing a black bra strip; the shirt read, "Question Authority?" She was annoyed.

_**Keila Yamada, lead guitar. **_

Next to her was a boy with blonde hair. He wore a blue collar shirt that lost color the lower it got, dark grey pants and black vans. He wore a grey jacket to complete it, looking quite glum. He can't believe he got detention! He narrowed his eyes, remembering whom caused this. His expression changed and he bit his lip; how would this look on his record!

_**Finn Gifford, keyboard.**_

Next was a girl with raven black, straight hair; it was a bit messy but she knew how to "rock" the style, said her boyfriend. She wore a grey tank-top with blue jeans, red converse and a necklace with a red bass on it around its namesake. She had a small smile of relief written across her face but it quickly changed. Why did she have to give in so easily!

_**Marceline Abadeer, bass.**_

Sitting by her was a rather good looking boy with raven black messy hair. He wore a purple shirt, a black vest, blue jeans, black converse and leather bracelets around his wrists. He held a drum stick in his right hand, spinning it professionally. He was pretty laid back but in the back of his head, he planned revenge against the jerk that got him into detention!

_**Marshall Lee Delgado, drum god.**_

Next was a girl with golden blonde hair. She nervously wrote in her notebook. The girl wore a black shirt with a blue skirt, white shoes, a small blue jacket and a black plastic watch around her wrist. She looks up, takes notes about the people around and goes back to her notebook.

_**And me, Fionna White, future frontman for Lemonade Mouth.**_

"One, two, three, four, five," The man counted us in a whisper, turning towards a stack of papers. He wrote down the information across the papers. They all watched in complete boredom.

_**It was this ragtag group of five that started it all.**_

"Alright, I have decided!" He announced, passing back certain objects. "..rather than let you widdle your little thumbs for the next hour, we are going to let you put those thumbs to use. We're going to clean around here. We're gonna unpack and turn this storage room into a..." He paused, waving his arms around desparately, trying to think of something. "..a...a music room!" He always loved music. He picked up a guitar sadly, "I mean, we might as well make the best of it, right?

"We've been banished to the basement." His voice cracked at the end; he frowned, clutching the guitar tightly while trying to hold sadness. He strummed the instrument pathetically, releasing a sigh that ment he gave up.

There was a sudden droning from above. He looked around, "Did you hear that?" We remained silent. The noise picked up, becoming louder. "Ooh," He growled, placing the guitar down. He clenched his fists, "You know what? If they spent a fraction of what that new gymnasium cost to keep this music program alive, I-" Another flush from above; this time, louder. His face turned red, embarrassment and anger filling his system. "That is it! That is it!"

He opened his mouth, letting out his giant outburst of anger.

_**BUT! **_

**-PAUSE-**

_**..if I'm going to tell you this right...I need to go back to the beginning.**_

_**-REWIND-  
**_

* * *

**A/N: This was a request! Thanks, xXAdventureTimedaBossXx ! Request are still open :) Anyways, IF we make a next chapter, we will write them in character so the story might change a bit.  
-R.W.E  
**


	2. Red Deals with HATERS in the reviews,

**A/N: **AHAHAHAH! Listen here, you little fucker. We've memorized every single word to the breakfast club! AND no! Lemonade Mouth is not like it! Just because it is filled with teenagers in detention doesn't automatically make it The Breakfast Club! Lemonade Mouth is top-selling novel written pretty well! Did you know it was based off a book? No, you probably didn't! God, you're ignorant. Breakfast Club is my fuckin' favorite movie; I've memorized the actors, the director, the producer and pretty much everything. No, it doesn't make me something you little ignorant bitches call a "true fan" because I don't believe in that shit. I just appreciate the movie 'cause that is all it is! A movie. Bitch, do you even know what a crossover is? I think not! Let's underline the word _cross_ and _over_, can we? It's when characters from different series collide together! If you actually took the time to read my "dumb story", you would know that none of the characters from Disney's Lemonade Mouth were in the story. And no, it's not _your _planet! If it was your planet, I wouldn't be smart enough to type a story. Wanna know why? Because you're an idiot.

If you think that, go ahead. You are titled to your own opinion, but don't come to _my_ story and slap me with your stupid ass, fucking hate. Keep it to yourself, bitch! I would totally understand if you spoke your words and actually read my story! Or even lied to me but be polite! "Nice writing! But not a fan of Lemonade Mouth. I believe it is a rip-off of Breakfast Club. Good job, though." Yes, that would share your opinion and get your words across but no! You had to drag your horribly written hate all over my fuckin' REQUESTED story. Yes, requested from a friend. A friend that hasn't yet spoken to me about continuing the story! I bet you're one of those people on here just to ship Fiolee just because it is a bad boy and a good girl. Cliche! Yeah, Fiolee is a cool ship. The shippers are awesome writers as well!

I'm sorry, Fiolee-Shippers for bringing this across but don't you hate these kinds of people for shipping things just by the first-take they think of the characters. Oh, and also! "fan fics" or Fanfictionals(or Fanfics) are for people who have a great story and creativity. This is a "version" not a rip off! "get some talent of your own"? HAHAHAHA! Motherfucker, I have more talent in the tip of my pinky finger than you have in your whole body! Okay, maybe I'm a horrible writer but it's something I love to do and if I think I did a good job, then I did. If I think I have talent to do this correctly, than I do.

Look at my story and look at your "hate"(no, not a review. It's sheer hate. It's a feeling I have for you. A review is something you think of the story! THE STORY. Not the plot line.) And yes! Someone has stolen my ideas! It's pathetic(like you) and it hurts, knowing they have little respect for me to do that. Plus, I don't have bad ideas. No one does! It's just how we choose to express them that makes them bad. So no! I will NEVER take your advice. HAHAHA. But you can take mine: read carefully. "Take a fuckin' look in the mirror, you ignorant little pest." Oh, and peasant? HAHAHAHA. THAT'S ORIGINAL. I'm being sarcastic, if you couldn't tell, you dumbass. I didn't copy Lemonade Mouth; I repeat, it is a version. It is the Adventure Time version of Lemonade Mouth. It might not show now but in the next chapter it . I've cooled off enough and I think I got my point across, right?

Thanks for clicking! Don't ever do it again unless actually reading the story. Thank you; take the advice next time you're reviewing.  
**-Red:)**

**P.S! NOW THAT I GOT YOUR ATTENTION! xXAdventureTimedaBossXx , did you want this to be a full story? So, if you had to see...all that, I don't take kindly to hate.**


	3. Detention

**A/N: Oh god, we need to update. All of our stories will be updated today. ALL. OF. THEM. Oh, and sorry about Red in the last chapter. She cooled down a bit.  
Love, Writing!**

A guitar wail sounded off from a large mansion. Inside was a girl with messy, brown hair with thin golden highlights. She drowned herself in her music, running her skilled fingers across the neck of her electric guitar. Her eyes were shut as she smirked and leaped across the room, slamming her hands down. Too busy in her music, she didn't hear her name being shouted in the background until her amp. was unplugged. "Huh? WHAT?" She snarled, spinning around with a scowl. She absolutely hated being cutted off from her music; it was embarrassing and stupid.

"Keila, you're going to be late. Let's get going," Her mother said. Keila and her mother were nothing alike; Keila had lovely, pure pale chocolate skin while her mom had pale white snow-soft skin. Her mom, or Helen, wore a brown suit with a brown matching skirt. Keila wore black, skin-tight jeans with a loose T-shirt that read "Question Authority?" Keila was a rule-breaker; Helen was a rule-maker. Keila had a cause! She did things for reasons; she wanted to prove all those people who called her names were wrong! That she was born for greatness. Helen wanted to help the world just like the rest of the family. They were two different elements; it was really hard to believe they shared the same blood.

Keila sighed, looking down at her two siblings that were twins. They were basically geniuses so they didn't have to go to school. Keila slammed her hand on her guitar one more time before heading off into her mom's car. The ride to the school was deadly silent, save for Keila's humming as she wrote down a song. She couldn't put her thoughts into words so putting them into songs was out of the question! But she liked doing cover songs even though she never has done one. She always forgets or finds a better song to perform.

As they parked, Keila zoomed out and slammed the door; maybe a little harder than she should've had. She huffed, grasping her backpack tightly before walking to her school's doors. Her mother followed close behind, "Keila!" The rocker chick didn't listen, stomping her combat boots. "Keila!" Finally, her mother gripped her wrist, causing her to spin around. "I will not be ignored!" Helen cried, desparately.

"Yeah, we finally have something in common. Being ignored," She growled, yanking from her grip.

"Keila," She sighed. "I know it's hard but why can't you understand that it's better this way? We found better jobs; a bigger house and we finally found a genius program for the twins! I know -"

Keila finally snapped, "_Don't_ do that! _Please _don't do that. You _do not _know how I feel!" She cooled down a bit, trying to hold back her feelings. "Mom, I'm a senior! Do you know how hard it is to make friends? Everything back at our old town was finally getting good for me. I had friends; good friends. I will never find more in _just _a year. So thanks, mom. Thanks for ruining my senior expirence."

"Keila! You'll find friends. It's not always about you."

"Yeah! _It never is_!" She cried. She released a sigh. "Forget it. Whatever."

**-Next-**

Inside a car sat a boy with messy hair and drumsticks. He slapped them against the empty seats next to him, picking up a beat. He did it with such ease and profession! He smirked happily, knowing it sounded well. "MARSHALL LEE!" A voice snapped. His eyes suddenly shot open when his beloved sticks were torn from his palms.

"What?" He groaned, annoyed.

"You know what today is?" His mother smiled, knitting a new sweater for their kitten.

"Uhhh..."

"It's Soccer Tryouts," His father laughed deeply. "How can you forget?"

"I-I...I didn't! I'll be there," Marshall smiled. "Can I have my drumsticks back?"

"Marshall, why? These just make noise! You should really focus on soccer if you want to get a scholarship like your brother!" His father insisted.

Marshall pursed his lips together tightly, trying to disguise his frown of disapointment. "You're right. You can keep those," He faked a smile. His dad gave him a nod of approval, allowing the boy to escape the metal walls of their vehicle. He gripped his backpack tightly, using his very impressive sensitivity on hearing as a tool of detecting the location of his parents' vehicle. Once off of school property, he yanked a new pair of drumsticks from his backpack, smiling widely. Some people laughed at him. A big jerk walked over, grinning. "How many pairs of sticks can you handle?"

"Oh, hah-hah, Tiffany. A gay joke?" Marshall growled. Tiffany was a short boy, compared with his friend and Marshall, with blonde hair and tanned skin. He wore a green shirt and black pants. "Come on, man! We all know how deep you are in the closet."

"Hey, c'mon, Tiffany! This dude isn't worth it," A boy with a white spiky hair sighed, pulling back at the boy's muscular arms. Tiffany punched Marshall's face before shoving him on the floor and walking away with the boy. Marshall wiped his nose to clean the red liquid spilling out. Tiffany has been working out since middle school. The raven haired boy groaned in pain as he climbed to his knees. "Wha-awww!" He cried out, finding his drumsticks broken in two. He grunted, getting to his feet. Marshall would've beat the kid up but he decided to leave the fighting game to make his parents proud of him.

A small smile of awe found a way onto his face when he spotted her. She strolled down effortlessly yet still looked flawless. "Marceline~" He tried to call. His voice came out a small groan, considering he was still hurt.

**-Next-**

A girl with raven black hair looked in the mirror of her father's truck. He looked worriedly around their surroundings: a high school. She wore a dress with their signature Night-O-Sphere symbol. It was a traditional dress for their religion. She grabbed her lip gloss and pressed it across her lips. She turned to see her father, looking around the front of his car. "Okay! Here we are, Marceline. Oh, remember to talk to Mr. Pigg to see if you can get extra credit for college."

"Dad, college is so far away! Can we just wait and, I don't know, have fun?" She sighed.

"Fun? You can have fun after college!"

She frowned, "Right, dad. I'll see what I can do."

Marceline grasped the door handle but felt a strong hand on her shoulder. She was forced to look at her dad again. "A-Are you wearing lipstick?"

She looked away, staring at the ground doubtfully. She wiped her lips against her sleeve roughly. "What? No!"

He looked at her with worried eyes, "B-Because, you're too young for that."

"Of course, dad."

She exited the car, rushing quickly into the school. Once fully inside, she looked around cautiously. Marceline walked inside the bathroom, pulling off her backpack. She pulled out her extra clothes and walked into the bathroom booth. She changed into a pair of jeans, a tank-top, a leather vest and some black combat boots. Her hair was messy but she didn't really care. She wrapped up her dress and shoved it in her backpack. "Much better," She sighed. Marceline walked out of the bathroom only to bump into a boy with white spiky hair.

"Whoa! Hey, beautiful," He chuckled, kissing her hand.

"Hello, Ash~" She sang happily, grasping his hand. The two strolled away, talking about their day.

"Um, hey. My band and I are gonna ditch today to practice. You wanna join in?"

She thought for awhile; her dad would kill her if he found out! But, who said he would catch her? "Totally!"

"That's my girl," He grinned, kissing her cheek.

**-Next-**

A blonde boy sat in car, grumbling softly. A young woman exited the car, waving goodbye. "Bye, honey!" His father called, blowing her a kiss. The boy gagged, nearly barfing. His father smiled, chuckling warmly as he drove away. "Dad, I don't understand! You're dating a girl in college!"

"Finn, don't get so donked up. Catherine is just taking a photograph course," Jake insisted.

"Ugh! Catherine, catherine, catherine! You always talk about her. Dad, you never spend anytime with me anymore! I miss you," He blurted out.

"We spend plenty of time together. You have to start getting use to Catherine."

"I never will," He whispered to himself angrily. He turned to Jake in the driver seat. "Dad, yesterday, you left me at piano practice for three extra hours. You totally forgot about me because of her!"

"Finn, I'm sorry but Catherine and I are in love. I've been meaning to talk to you about something. You see-"

"Oh! I'm here. Bye, Jake."

Finn only called his dad by his first name when he was really upset. He climbed out of the car and ran inside of the school, trying to escape the talk Jake insisted on him. He ran into his classroom and took a seat. It was a special day; the due date for his history project. He watched the others present their creations for awhile.

"Okay! Mr. Mertens, you're up." His teacher scoffed doubtfully. Finn smiled, pulling out his folder. This time, he would actually turn in a project. He would show his teacher and show all his classmates that his project was the absolute best. Finn pulled out his blue folder and opened it to grab the first page. His skin turned a ghost white and an awful wave of fear splashed over him. Inside the folder was Catherine's photos. "No, no, no! This can't be happening," He whispered to himself, digging his fingers into his blonde locks.

"Um, Mertens! What's taking so long?" His teacher growled.

"I-I-...Catherine, she - I grabbed the wrong folder! She took my folder." He cried out.

There was a knock on their door. Everyone turned to see a beautiful lady holding a blue folder. "Uh, hey, Finn! Looks like we had a little mix up," She smiled.

"My, oh my. I'm Finn's teacher," The man said, lifting his hand.

"Nice to meet you. I'm Catherine," She shook his hand.

"Whoa! Finn's mommy is hot," A boy grinned.

"What? She's not my mom! Look at her. I mean, are you donked up in the head?" He said angrily. It was only until he saw Catherine's sad face did he realized what he said. And his teacher was far from impressed.

"Detention, Mr. Mertens!" He snapped. The two security guards with blonde hair grabbed Finn's arms. Ever since the shooting of Cookie Moe, they had security guards to help some of the old teachers. They're all pretty dumb. Everyone called them Banana Guards because they were all blonde, tall and thin. Finn tried to pull away but he would only get in more trouble.

"He didn't mean it!" A girl with blonde hair blurted out, standing up. Everyone turned to her.

"Fionna, sit down. This doesn't concern you."

"Mr. Keeper, Finn didn't mean this. He's just upset!"

"Are you talking back to a teacher?"

She paused, "Yeah! Yeah, you can call it that but I'm just explaining. Finn didn't mean it. This is a family problem and it doesn't concern you! You shouldn't punish him. You don't understand, you dumbutt!"

She smacked her face, regretting saying anything.

"Detention for you, too! You want to be a hero? Well, do it outside of my classroom, Miss Martins."

Two guards grabbed her arms.

**A/N: "Hey, what are you in for?"**

**"I called a teacher a dumbutt."**

**Review! :)**


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